


everything happens for a reason, but it's not about the reason

by softheartelectricsoul



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, That Poppy (Musician) RPF
Genre: Battery City, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, Disjointed narrative, Gen, Poppy is Hella Weird, Rebels, References To Past Killjoys, References to Canon, References to Drugs, Rehabilitation, Song Lyrics, Teenage Rebellion, i learnt poppy's real name was moriah and ran with it, i'm not bringing the cult stuff into this because it's a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 01:37:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13179621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softheartelectricsoul/pseuds/softheartelectricsoul
Summary: “if you stay i would lead away your mindor until my heart explodes out”in which bli/nd approved pop star moriah rose finds a flower that changes the course of her life.





	everything happens for a reason, but it's not about the reason

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [This is the Road to Ruin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12320715) by [Lbell107](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lbell107/pseuds/Lbell107), [SavingGrace21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavingGrace21/pseuds/SavingGrace21). 



Oh!

(behind me?  
turn around.  
don't be rude.)

That's Moriah!

(i'm not moriah.  
yes you are.)

I love your music, Moriah, can I get a picture?

Sure thing!

Click. Click. Click.

Thank you!

You're welcome.

* * *

 

(a house.  
i stay in this house.  
it has:  
one floor,  
one garden,  
five rooms,  
sixteen windows.)

Go around, go around.

(this room is separated from the rest of the rooms.  
this is a room where i write music.  
i write music in this room.  
i have written a lot of music.  
i like to write music.  
i like to see people listening to my music.  
oh yes, i do.)

* * *

 

Oh.

(i am in the room where i write music.  
what time is it?  
i don't know.)

It is Monday. Is it Monday already? Did I take my pills? I think so. I don't know. I think that I took my pills, but I don't know.

I remember that there was a time in which I did not take my pills. This time was not recent. This time was a long, long time ago. This time does not matter now. I must write music now. I must not think about times in which I did not take pills.

* * *

 

It was a long time ago.

I did not live in the house with five rooms.

I lived in the slums. I think so. I do not remember much.

I remember once that I saw something that was not black, but it was not white either. It was bright red. It was a flower.

(how did the flower get into battery city?  
i don't know.)

I remember once I was walking around at night.

(why was i walking around?  
you aren't allowed to do that.)

I went to the wrong place, that night, walking around. I do not remember much after that, except for these things:

Silence.  
Pills.  
(those were new, at the time.  
i did not like those pills.  
i like those pills now.  
oh yes, i do.  
i do like those pills.)  
White.

I remember this quite clearly: I did not see many flowers in the white place.

* * *

 

I should not think of the white place. I must leave now.

I must go to the Office.

It is called the Office of Destruction Of Terrorist Media because it oversees the destruction of terrorist media.

I am going to the Office so they can make sure that that the media I produce does not support terrorists.

(they want to do this because terrorists are bad.  
i know that terrorists are bad.  
therefore, the media i produce does not support terrorists.

i'm doing my part.  
oh yes, i am.)

* * *

 

I am taking the bad street. I do not know why I am doing this.

(this is irrational.)

There is light in the street, and there is colour.

(i am worried.  
the streets are not supposed to be colourful.  
not even these streets. these streets are the bad streets.  
colour is bad.  
oh yes, it is.)

There is a girl. Her hair is like a flower.

(a juvie)

She has a gun. She is shooting a Draculoid.

(this is wrong.  
oh yes, it is.)

I must inform them. They will call down the law, and the menace will be dead. Then I can go to the Office.

(but my hand can't reach for the tablet.  
but i must inform them.  
my hand stretches towards my bag.)

The Draculoid falls down, dead.

The girl has spotted me.

I am afraid.

The girl stops, hesitating. I think she is afraid. She has a reason to be afraid, after all. She is afraid that I will do what is right.

“Don't dial them. Just don't, okay? Just don't. Please don't.”

But I must.

The girl moves. I move, but I cannot move fast enough. The girl knocks the tablet out of my bag, and takes it.

“Sorry.”

She runs.

I run after her.

(wasn't i supposed to go somewhere?)

* * *

 

The girl runs into what looks like a sewer, and I follow.

(where is this?)

She turns.

“Oh god, you followed me?”

I nod.

She sighs.

“Just follow me, and don't go anywhere else.”

(this is against the rules, moriah.  
i'm not moriah.)

We come to a door, set into concrete.

“I'm so sorry you got dragged into this. I'm Saratonin, and you definitely should not have seen all this. What's your name?”

(moriah rose)

“I'm Poppy.”


End file.
